His lips quirked into a smile. “You can always interest me in cereal. That’s my favorite kind.”
“I know,” she said, and turned to the cabinet to reach for another bowl.
As he watched her reach into the cupboard, her shirt riding up and showing a sliver of her sexy waist, he latched onto what she’d just said. “How did you know?”
She swiveled back with a maroon ceramic bowl in hand. “Um,” she said, and looked down as if she’d been caught red-handed. “I noticed it at your house.”
For some reason, this made him smile. It wasn’t even so much that she’d noticed, but that she’d remembered.
She poured him a bowl and clinked her spoon to his. “A toast to the best kind of cereal.”
“What else did you notice at my house?” he asked as he took a spoonful.
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing,” she said, but the red that flooded her cheeks gave her away.
“Go through my sock drawers, too, maybe?”
“No.”
“Tupperware?”
“Fine. If you must know, I perused the utensils.”
He raised an eyebrow as he took another bite. “Interesting,” he said in between crunches. “What did you learn?”
“That you don’t have enough teaspoons,” she said with a very straight face that made Becker nearly spit out his cereal with laughter.
“But what about butter knives?”
“You have plenty of those.”
“How about soup spoons?”
“I better check again. I didn’t take a proper inventory of soup spoons.”
“Falling down on the job,” he teased.
Soon, she finished her cereal, rinsed out the bowl, and left it in the sink. She started putting dishes away in the cupboards as he worked through his cereal. He watched her whip through the dishes like a champion, shelving the plates, then the glasses, then the bowls. She reached for a tall vase next, quickly hoisting herself up onto the counter like an agile creature so she could align the vase on the top of the cupboards. “The cupboards are all full and this is the only place these tall vases fit,” she explained as she swiveled around.
She crouched down to hop off the counter, and he immediately pictured her toppling off in a topsy-turvy mess, whacking her head on the dishwasher handle and falling smack on her butt on the floor. Instantly, he thrust his bowl onto the counter, ready to catch. Instead, she moved like a cat, landing softly on her feet.
“I thought you were going to fall. Since you admitted you were a klutz,” he said.
She winked. “I just said that to pick you up.”
He laughed. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“Like a charm. I made you think I was the typical klutzy heroine.”
“When in fact, there is nothing typical about you. Did you say anything else to pick me up?”
“I think it was all the things I didn’t say that you liked so much,” she said, lowering her voice and looking straight at him as he dried off his hands on a towel.
“What do you mean?”
He watched her swallow, as if she were considering what to say. “I think you liked the fact that I didn’t tell you chapter, line, and verse. I think you prefer not knowing the details,” she said, and her voice sounded thin and nervous. “You liked it better when I wasn’t totally myself.”
Instinctively, he took a step toward her, running his hand along her arm. He shouldn’t be touching her. He shouldn’t be speaking so plainly to her about how he felt. But he was having the hardest time acting as if there was nothing between them. They weren’t friends, they weren’t photographer and subject. They were onetime lovers who wanted to be more, who were trying to hold back. Or maybe trying not to. “That’s not true. I like when you share things with me.”
“Isn’t it, though? You said it was easier when we hardly knew each other,” she said, repeating their words from the coffee shop.
Maybe not holding back would yield a greater reward. Because he liked this far too much. Enjoyed it. Craved it. Needed it.
“Yes. I did. And so did you. And it was easier,” he said, his heart beating faster as he practiced brutal honesty with her. No walls. No secrets. No pretending. “And now it’s harder for a million reasons. But I also like knowing who you are. More than I should. Much more than I should,” he said, letting his voice trail off as he ran a finger down the bare skin of her arm. They were both watching as she reached for his hand, briefly lacing her fingers through his. That simple touch sent a flurry of shivers down his spine. “I like knowing about your owl. And your tattoo dreams. And I like knowing about the river and what it means to you. And I like knowing you’re not really a klutz.”